When Maglor and Maedhros were brought before Manwë, just the mere sight of the chief Vala made Maglor want to spit. He felt the rage burn inside him, hot as his father's forge. You dare punish us for defending ourselves in a conflict that came of YOUR mismanagement. The thought of getting on his knees and groveling for forgiveness made him sick. If anyone needed to beg forgiveness it was Manwë.
But then Maglor thought of Elrond and Elros, who were back at the palace - Finarfin had deemed them too young to witness a disciplinary ceremony. Maglor thought of Fëanor dying in his arms; even now, as a grown man, Maglor needed his father. He couldn't fathom what his life would have been like if he'd lost Fëanor as a child. He couldn't inflict that same sort of pain on Elrond and Elros - not the sons of his blood but the sons of his heart - and unfortunately, it was this or the Void. Maglor couldn't blame Finarfin for that; eventually it would have been someone else, a bounty hunter hoping to be rewarded by Manwë, perhaps, and they would have shown less kindness than his uncle, who was at least trying to give him another option.
A home for Maglor, and his sons.
Maglor needed to do it for them, and Finarfin was right - Fëanor would want him to do this for his sons, still boys, still growing. Maglor still felt a stab of guilt, like he was being disloyal to his father, but he told himself he was honoring the memory of his father by doing this, who had taught him love.
His love for his father and his sons had to be stronger than his hatred for Manwë, now.
And so Maglor performed a trick that his father had taught him long ago, when Fëanor and Nerdanel had one of their quarrels and Nerdanel made Fëanor cry, and though Maglor spoke no words of it, his feeling of anger was "loud" enough that Nerdanel still knew it. Fëanor had taken him aside into the forge and let Maglor pick out a stone from his hoard. Maglor had chosen a stone that was somewhat clear but looked clouded by smoke, and had flecks that twinkled and sometimes looked gold or silver in the light, sometimes even had tiny glittering rainbows. One could still perceive some colors and shapes through the stone, but it was blurry, out of focus, and faded. "Now picture an entire wall made of that stone, around your mind," Fëanor had said. "When you don't want other people to know what you're thinking and feeling, build up the wall and it will obscure your mind from their view."
Maglor built up that wall now so strongly that he felt like he was disconnecting from his body, not even in touch with his own mind, as he spoke the words Manwë demanded to hear of his regret and repentance. Maglor was vaguely aware that it was happening, but it was distant - his heart hidden even from Manwë himself, who seemed satisfied by Maglor's responses rather than suspicious, knowing Maglor was only going through the motions and was not speaking the truth.
Even with the wall around his mind and the feeling of dissociation, Maglor still felt a touch of bitter distaste at what he was doing. Do it for your sons, came the chant in the back of his mind.
And yet, he was not doing it wholly unselfishly, just for his sons or to honor his father's legacy. He looked at Finarfin and the memory of their reunion flashed in his mind's eye.
"Káno, is living with me really worse than the Void?"
Yes, living with the man he ached for and could not have was a special kind of eternal torment... but living without him seemed to be such as well. He had missed Finarfin so much. At least this way, he could be friends with his uncle once more. Crumbs were better than nothing, when one was starving, and Maglor had been hungry for so long.
Maglor lessened the strength of the wall as Manwë proclaimed Maedhros and Maglor restored to the Valar and welcome to live in Aman once more, provided that the rest of their lives under the custody of Finarfin...
..."and they must still pay for their crimes," Manwë said.
Maglor swallowed hard. This wasn't good. He glanced over at Finarfin, who showed no emotion, but there was a flicker of concern across their minds before Finarfin shielded his own. Maglor knew he was perhaps naive to think he would just be free-under-custody if he begged forgiveness, but the idea of "payment" sounded ominous.
Manwë glanced first at Maedhros, looking him up and down. He lingered on Maedhros's grey eyes, haunted - seeming to stare off at something many miles away; Maglor knew it was miles and years - and then Manwë looked down at Maedhros's stump of an arm. Maedhros didn't want to be pitied, he'd trained himself to be an even stronger swordsman than before the loss of his hand, and yet...
"This one has been through enough," Manwë proclaimed, and looked over at Maglor. "You will pay the price for both yourself and your brother."
Oh Eru. Maglor wanted to run, but he was on his knees, hands shackled in front of him, so that wasn't happening.
Manwë turned to Finarfin, who lost his iron reserve for just an instant, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "If you would claim responsibility for your nephews, to keep them in line with the Laws... then you must prove it, now." Manwë gestured to the royal scepter Finarfin was holding, that Finarfin rarely carried but had brought now to an official court event. "You will flog him, twenty times. Ten for himself, and ten to pay for Maedhros."
"With... this." Finarfin switched the scepter to his left hand, eyes wide.
"You heard me, did you not?" Manwë gestured back to Maglor. "Strip his breeches and stripe his bottom."
Maglor gasped. Finarfin walked over slowly - seeming to hesitate - and when their eyes met, Maglor's face burned. Being beaten hard in front of a crowd of others would be humiliating enough. But something about Finarfin seeing his ass... and breaking him... that was even worse.
The worst was yet to come. First, Finarfin roughly yanked his breeches down and Maglor felt his hole twitching - he'd fantasized about Finarfin undressing him countless times - but this was the wrong time and place to get excited. This was not his fantasy.
And then, one strike of the scepter, two... the thudding pain that cracked into him and radiated a deep ache that seemed to go into his bones, radiating into his entire body, suddenly transmuted to pleasure. To his horror, Maglor felt his cock rise, throbbing with each blow of the scepter. He not only pushed out the wall around his mind, but he did something he'd done a handful of times before, visualizing a change of his appearance in his mind's eye and projecting it outward, an illusion. His cock was still hard to the point of agony but no one else in the temple could see it. No one else could feel Maglor's excitement at being on his knees, wrists shackled, utterly helpless, as Finarfin's scepter hit his ass over and over again.
Six, seven. Maglor whimpered.
Ten, eleven. More, Maglor wanted to cry out, but didn't.
He was not truly repentant, and yet each blow of the scepter seemed to cleanse something festering inside him, breaking his heart along with his body, releasing a flood of emotions Maglor had been keeping trapped to be strong for his traumatized, grieving brother, and the boys they'd adopted. Maglor wept, and part of him was ashamed for crying like this in front of an audience, but he needed it.
He needed, most of all, to be completely under Finarfin's control. Each strike of the scepter felt like surrender. Like Finarfin claiming him, somehow.
After the twentieth blow, Finarfin gave Maglor a moment to recover - Maglor was in excruciating pain, his ass stung, his back and legs ached... but he felt relief, too, that confounded him, not understanding why.
Relief, and tension. His cock was dripping, completely slick. Finarfin removed the shackles from Maedhros and Maglor himself, helped them to their feet - and Maglor noticed Finarfin looking down, right at Maglor's hard, glistening cock, just before Maglor pulled up his smallclothes and breeches.
SHIT. Maglor had tried to hide that - it didn't seem like Manwë had seen it, what Maglor was most concerned about - but it was somehow worse that Finarfin had seen it. Their eyes met for a moment before Finarfin looked away, showing no reaction, and Maglor wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide and die. He knows I got aroused when he beat me.
Maglor's stomach sank, barely breathing as he realized, He probably knows now I'm aroused by him.
Fingon and Maedhros's relationship had been an open secret. It was against the Laws, not just because they were first cousins, but they were also two men; it would have been forbidden even if they had not been related. But the relation had cast an added stigma, enough that Fëanor had to pretend to publicly disapprove of their "close friendship" lest he be charged with allowing his son to go astray. In private, there had been a secret wedding that Fëanor and Fingolfin attended.
This was Finarfin, who had not. This was his uncle, even nearer kin.
On their way out of the temple, Finarfin threw an extra cloak at him. "You are shivering," Finarfin said, and that wasn't a lie, but when their eyes met again, Maglor knew it hadn't been because of cold; the additional layer was to conceal the erection.
Maglor didn't know whether to be grateful or mortified.
They said nothing all the way back to the palace. Maedhros and Maglor were no longer to stay in cells, but were given separate guest quarters, and would be reunited tonight with Elrond and Elros at a feast after sunset. But until then... "Let them rest before the feast," Finarfin told his servants, shooing them away. "They have had a difficult day."
Maglor retreated to his bed and lay down on the silks and velvets and furs, gingerly. Walking hurt, settling into a laying position hurt, sitting was going to be unbearable. The canopy bed with its shimmering gauzy curtains felt like a cocoon, someplace to hide and be safe after everything; he tried to rest, hoping that if he relaxed some it would ease the pain, but his balls felt full and tight. He needed to come, but as he reached for his breeches it felt like the walls had eyes, like somehow Finarfin would know...
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Finarfin said, "Káno, I need to speak with you." Not waiting for a response, the latch slid open and Finarfin stepped inside.
go to Chapter 3 | go to story index | go to Maglor Fanfic index | go to home page